<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>try to turn your head around by witching</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29208240">try to turn your head around</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/witching/pseuds/witching'>witching</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>you've been like a light [13]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dirty Talk, Face-Sitting, Hair-pulling, Kissing, Lingerie, M/M, Makeup, Martim Week 2021, Martim week: dressed up/down, Martim week: praise/degradation, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Sex Toys, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, Trans Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Vaginal Fingering, Vibrators</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:55:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,698</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29208240</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/witching/pseuds/witching</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Hey, ah, Martin?”<br/>The low, nervous sound of Tim’s voice cuts into Martin’s racing thoughts, and Martin realizes abruptly that he’s been standing in the doorway with the door half-open. He pushes it open all the way and steps into the room, preparing to say something – an apology, maybe, or an explanation, or a question – but then he takes in the sight before him, and all he can do is inhale a sharp gasp. He raises his hand to cover his open mouth, his eyes wide and perhaps, embarrassingly, a little bit wet.<br/>There’s another long, long pause before Tim clears his throat politely. “Martin, babe,” he murmurs gently, a hint of a waver in his voice, “I know I put on a big show of knowing how hot I am, but it is a bit – a bit – I need you to say something, please, or I might start getting insecure.”</i>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Martin Blackwood/Tim Stoker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>you've been like a light [13]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1668694</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>117</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Martim Week 2021</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>try to turn your head around</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>baby, i could praise you</em><br/>
<em>try to turn your head around</em><br/>
<em>could you take a compliment?</em><br/>
<em>everything i say, you</em><br/>
<em>find a way to drown it out</em><br/>
<em>make it like an argument</em>
</p><p>// carly rae jepsen, 'window'</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Martin should have known that Tim was up to something when he offered to do the washing up after dinner and Tim didn’t even argue with him about it. Martin would have won that argument, and he’d had all the points in his favor listed in his head in advance: Tim had cooked dinner so it was only fair to let him wash the dishes; he hadn’t done much today, while Tim had been all over the place running errands before Martin came over; and if those reasons didn’t persuade him, Martin was fully prepared to pout until Tim gave in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Tim didn’t argue with him at all, not even a token protest. Martin said “I’ll wash up,” and Tim said “Alright,” and then he kissed Martin’s cheek and ducked out of the room, and Martin should have been suspicious, but he wasn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now that he’s finished with the dishes, it dawns on him rather suddenly as he dries his hands. Tim’s been acting weird, and Martin can think of at least half a dozen reasons why he might be acting weird, and only about half of them are good. Granted, those are also the more likely options, but that doesn’t stop Martin from worrying about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s the obvious, of course – the glaring topic that they haven’t even approached since they agreed to </span>
  <em>
    <span>talk about it later</span>
  </em>
  <span> – but Martin can’t fathom why Tim would head off that particular conversation by letting him wash up. Every other idea in his head is an even further stretch of the imagination. He can’t properly theorize one way or the other, because there’s already a lot of variables to consider, even without his indefatigable overthinking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In any case, he’ll likely find out for sure as soon as he goes to find Tim. Which he is doing, right now. No reason not to. Can’t just stand around in the kitchen hoping that some magical answer will hit him like a lightning bolt. No, best to actually talk to Tim about it, definitely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim is not in the sitting room, which is to be expected, so Martin continues to the bedroom, pushing the door open slowly, without knocking, because Tim is always telling him he doesn’t need to knock, but then he thinks maybe he should have knocked, because this feels slightly different for reasons he can’t wrap his head around, and also because maybe Tim’s long-suffering reminder would be a good way to diffuse whatever tension there is, assuming Martin isn’t just imagining the tension –</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, ah, Martin?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The low, nervous sound of Tim’s voice cuts into Martin’s racing thoughts, and Martin realizes abruptly that he’s been standing in the doorway with the door half-open. He pushes it open all the way and steps into the room, preparing to say something – an apology, maybe, or an explanation, or a question – but then he takes in the sight before him, and all he can do is inhale a sharp gasp. He raises his hand to cover his open mouth, his eyes wide and perhaps, embarrassingly, a little bit wet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s another long, long pause before Tim clears his throat politely. “Martin, babe,” he murmurs gently, a hint of a waver in his voice, “I know I put on a big show of knowing how hot I am, but it is a bit – a bit – I need you to say something, please, or I might start getting insecure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without thinking, Martin crosses the room and climbs on the bed to join Tim, drinking in every inch of the view, and lets his thoughts spill out of his mouth unfettered. “Oh, Tim,” he breathes reverently, “you’re so… God, you’re incredible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim ducks his head to hide his pleased little smile. Martin finally gains the presence of mind to get his hands on him, fingers running down the sheer fabric covering his arms, the eyelash lace trim draped loosely around his wrists. The robe sits perfectly over Tim’s body, the sash left untied, the lingerie set half-visible through the silk of it, fully visible where it artfully falls open to reveal his chest, his stomach, his thighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a short robe, probably wouldn’t fall much lower than the curve of Tim’s ass, if he were standing, but leaning back against his headboard, it spreads out from him just slightly. Martin slips his hands under the hem, pulls it open entirely to see the full picture of what’s underneath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you…” he pauses, takes a breath as his hands roam over the expanse of Tim’s stomach, wander down to his thighs and squeeze. “Garters, and everything? What’s this for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“S’for you,” Tim mumbles, shrugging one shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I assumed as much,” says Martin, still breathless with wonder, “but I can’t imagine what I’ve done to deserve all this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim shifts slightly, biting his lip as Martin continues to look and touch his fill. “You don’t have to </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>anything for me to dress up for you,” he answers, “I just thought it might be nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>nice.” Martin leans in, finally unable to resist the urge to kiss Tim senseless, but he pulls up short an inch from Tim’s lips. “God, Tim, are you wearing makeup?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just a bit.” Tim blinks his long, thick lashes and doesn’t lunge forward to catch Martin in a kiss – something that Martin tucks away in his mind, good behavior that he’ll have to reward later. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For now, though – “What are you hoping to get out of this?” he asks, because it would be nice to know what Tim wants, so he can deliver to the best of his ability.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim takes a deep breath, unsubtly staring at Martin’s mouth. “I was really hoping you’d see me all put together and, you know. Take me apart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin kisses him, a lingering press of the lips, and pulls back just a hair, just enough to speak. “Of course,” he breathes, bringing his hand up to thumb at Tim’s lower lip, gathering just a tint of his lipstick without properly smearing it. “You want me to ruin your pretty makeup?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim nods fervently, desperately. Martin gives him a smile, sits back on his heels and smiles wider at the forlorn look on Tim’s face. He grabs Tim by the hips, his hands firm but gentle, and pulls him so he’s lying down properly now, the robe riding up with the movement and puddling around his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The look on Tim’s face warps from bereft to awed, staring wide-eyed up at Martin, who begins to undress himself. He’s not graceful about it, refusing to stand up to make it easier on himself, so he ends up struggling to get his pants down past his knees while his knees are still planted on the bed. He’s too focused on his task to feel self-conscious about it until he’s done and he looks back to find Tim watching him with a grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t make fun of me,” Martin says, putting his head on one side and frowning at Tim.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not, I wouldn’t,” Tim assures him, though his smile doesn’t fade. “I’m just watching you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then why do you look like that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I like watching you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin’s face heats up, and he presses his lips together in a thin line to suppress his own giddy smile, the one that always threatens to appear whenever Tim makes him feel wanted. Not trusting himself not to say something embarrassing, he just lowers himself on one arm and leans in to kiss Tim, slow and deep. He licks into Tim’s mouth hotly, hungrily, a pleased hum escaping him at the faint fruity taste of Tim’s lipstick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim whines, arching up into the warmth of Martin’s body, wrapping his arms around Martin’s neck and pulling him in. Martin slots his thigh between Tim’s legs, letting him grind up against him and listening to all of Tim’s little noises muffled against his lips. He brings his free hand up to Tim’s waist, his fingers digging into the flesh just enough to make Tim whimper into his open mouth, before breaking the kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you want, sweetheart?” Martin murmurs warm against Tim’s skin as he moves to kiss a line down the side of his jaw, to suck and nip at his throat. “You want me to suck you off? Want me to fuck you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaking his head, Tim grabs onto Martin’s shoulders, holding him as if his life depends upon it. “Let me taste you,” he pleads breathlessly. “Want to make you feel good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tonguing over a blooming bruise on Tim’s neck, Martin hums appreciatively. “Yeah? You want to lie back and let me ride your face?” he asks, and then he can’t help diving in to kiss Tim again when he sees the delighted gleam in his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulls away reluctantly, tugging gently on Tim’s lower lip with his teeth, and places a hand in the center of Tim’s chest to push him flat on the bed. Tim just looks up at him, wanting and trusting and </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfect,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and meeting his gaze sends a pulse of heat through Martin’s core so strong that it knocks the wind out of him a bit. He keeps his eyes on Tim’s face as he moves up along the length of his body, watches how his breaths become short and shallow, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thinking about that tongue, Martin doesn’t hesitate to grab onto the headboard with one hand and swing one leg over to straddle Tim’s face, keeping up on his knees to hover tantalizingly over Tim’s mouth. He brings his other hand to stroke Tim’s hair affectionately, and Tim leans into the touch. Martin smiles, takes a handful of hair and pulls hard, forcing Tim’s head back and his mouth open on a high moan, which goes straight to Martin’s core.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, he lowers himself until he feels Tim’s tongue between his folds, eager and hungry. Tim strains up to meet him, to bury his face in the wet heat of him, and Martin lets his sounds of pleasure flow freely, breathy whines and high moans in chorus with Tim’s muffled wanton whimpers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It still surprises Martin just how much Tim loves doing this. The first few times, he was nervous – he’s not a small person by any means, and neither is Tim, really, but it was still a daunting concept to just </span>
  <em>
    <span>sit </span>
  </em>
  <span>on his </span>
  <em>
    <span>face.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Even once Tim had convinced him that that wasn’t going to be an issue, Martin was still apprehensive about it, just because he’d trained himself to shy away from anything that was for him, anything that required another person to do work to give him pleasure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim’s argument that he would enjoy it just as much had seemed far-fetched at the time, but then they actually tried it and Martin was blown away by how much he had not been exaggerating. And every time since then, Martin has started out with that little pit of anxiety in his stomach about it, and he’s been instantly and thoroughly reassured by the noises that Tim makes, the enthusiasm he has.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, you like that, don’t you?” he pants, trembling from the heat of Tim’s mouth. “You’re being so good for me, just – </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck </span>
  </em>
  <span>– so desperate to get me off with your clever mouth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim hums pleasantly, sending vibrations through Martin’s core and pulling another strained groan from him. He wraps his hands around the top of Martin’s thighs, pulls him down and keeps him there while he slips his tongue shallowly inside Martin’s hot, slick hole. He alternates between fucking Martin open on his tongue and licking messily up to his dick, mouthing at it and taking it between his lips to suck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin keeps his hand in Tim’s hair, slackening and tightening his hold with the sensation of Tim’s mouth on him, and Tim keeps his hands on Martin’s thighs, as if afraid he might move away if he lets go. Martin wouldn’t dream of it, of course, but he doesn’t mind the secure grip of Tim’s fingers squeezing his soft flesh, holding him close and tight. Whatever Tim needs to make it possible for him to do what he’s doing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As his pleasure mounts, Martin loses a bit of his coherence, ends up babbling nonsensically, “Good boy, that’s it, doing so well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>fucking good.” Tim still moans desperately at every word of it, lapping up the taste of Martin’s arousal and basking in the praise and gratitude falling from his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s good, right there,” Martin exclaims at a certain motion of Tim’s tongue, and Tim does it again. “Fuck, Tim, I’m so close.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim whines high in his throat, circling the tip of his tongue around Martin’s entrance, nosing along the length of his cock. Martin begins grinding down against him with a desperate fervor, chasing his pleasure until it crests. He comes with a harsh cry, and Tim continues licking and sucking for all he’s worth until Martin pulls away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He moves to sit on the bed beside Tim as he catches his breath. Tim watches him, licking Martin’s slick from his lips, looking pleased with himself but somewhat bereft without his mouth occupied. After a lingering pause, he rolls over abruptly and pushes into Martin’s space, almost to the point of sitting in his lap, to kiss him messily. Hands moving instinctively to Tim’s hips, Martin opens up for him, sucks Tim’s tongue into his mouth with an appreciative hum. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All too soon, Tim pulls back, his pupils blown wide and his breaths coming fast, and rubs his thumbs tenderly over Martin’s cheeks before whispering fervently, “Let me go again. Please?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want more, sweet thing?” Martin says, his voice dripping with sympathy. “You want to make me feel good?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, yes,” Tim breathes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin pretends to think it over for half a second, but he’s not particularly inclined to make Tim wait very long, any more than he’s inclined to wait for it himself. “Go on then, love. Show me what a good little slut you can be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s all the permission Tim needs. He lets Martin lean back against the pillows before gently guiding his legs apart, dipping his fingertips between Martin’s slick folds. Martin gasps at that, his hips jerking reflexively, and watches the slow, satisfied smile spread across Tim’s face before he dives in to get his mouth on Martin again. It’s good, a slightly different sensation than the hungry fervor of his first orgasm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spreading Martin open with one hand, Tim takes his cock between his lips and sucks gently, swirling his tongue around the tip and laving along the length of it. Martin lets out a low moan, cut off with a sharp gasp when Tim presses two fingers into the wet heat of him, thrusting them in and out and pulling a string of breathy whines from him. He keeps licking Martin’s sensitive, twitching cock as he pulls his fingers out, only to press back in with three.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit,” Martin hisses, his eyes falling closed as his mouth falls open. He twists his fingers into Tim’s hair again, holding him there with his tongue working Martin’s dick while he fucks him slow and deep on his fingers. “Fuck, you’re so good, Tim – you’re perfect. You make me feel so amazing, always give me just what I need.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim whines and doubles down, rubbing the sensitive spot inside Martin, pressing up against it with his fingertips as he wraps his tongue around Martin’s cock and sucks hard. Martin comes suddenly, arching into Tim’s mouth and pushing back on his fingers as he gasps and moans through the overwhelming wave of sensation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He keeps his eyes closed when Tim removes his mouth and pulls his fingers out, only opening them when he feels the total lack of Tim’s warm presence between his thighs. He looks up to see Tim sat back on his heels and licking Martin’s taste from his own fingers, his expression awash with blissful indulgence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seeing an opportunity, Martin reaches over to the nightstand, pulls open the drawer and finds what he’s searching for immediately. He’s not really trying to hide it, not being overly quiet or anything like that, but he thinks it’ll be a nice surprise if he doesn’t draw attention to it. It’s tucked away in his hand when Tim finally looks back at him, and Martin smiles brightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Back with us?” he asks with a wry quirk of an eyebrow. “Come here, love, let’s get you sorted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim nearly falls over himself in his clambering to join Martin at the head of the bed, but he pulls it off with a modicum of dignity, and Martin is too focused on what’s to come to even think about teasing him for it. He presses Tim back against the headboard, takes in the sight of him for a long moment – his chin gleaming with Martin’s juices, his lipstick entirely gone but for a smear right under his nose, his cheeks flushed dark and hot, his eyes wide and bright. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He look delicious, irresistibly so, and Martin leans in to lick into his mouth, his empty hand coming up to cradle Tim’s cheek. When he pulls away from the kiss, it’s only to move lower, mouthing along Tim’s jaw and throat and down to his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t believe you got all dressed up for me,” he murmurs, his lips grazing the soft lace of the bralette that covers not enough and too much of Tim’s skin at the same time. “My sweet, handsome boy… you deserve something very nice, don’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The whimper that bubbles up from Tim’s throat couldn’t rightly be called an affirmative, but the nod that accompanies it certainly is. Martin smiles, swipes the pad of his thumb over Tim’s nipple through the thin fabric. It makes Tim shudder from head to toe, and Martin savors that moment before laving his tongue over the other nipple, feeling it harden under the lace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm, it’s quite practical, too,” Martin muses, half to himself. “So easy to get you all worked up, and I don’t even have to get you undressed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim doesn’t say anything, partially because Martin’s mouth is on his chest again and he’s reduced to a whining mess. Somewhat surreptitiously, Martin gets his hand between Tim’s legs, finds his stiff cock through the matching lace and rubs small circles around it, not quite giving Tim what he wants, but ramping him up higher. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As far as distraction tactics go, it’s very effective, because Tim doesn’t notice the bullet vibrator in Martin’s hand until he turns it on and Tim’s back bows obscenely as he lets out a desperate moan. He writhes, trying to arch into Martin’s mouth still roaming his chest and buck against the toy in Martin’s hand at the same time.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Martin,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he whines, absolutely wrecked. Martin rewards that with a quick graze of his teeth over Tim’s nipple, and he moans again, low and broken.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin presses the vibrator more firmly against Tim’s cock, reveling in the way it makes Tim’s legs shake, his mouth hanging open in a constant string of gasps and half-phrases. Bringing his other hand up to play with Tim’s chest, Martin goes back to kissing his neck, open-mouthed and messy, biting and sucking marks into his skin, murmuring in his ear between kisses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s it, sweetheart,” he purrs, his voice satisfied and hot. “Good boy, such a lovely, perfect slut for me. Love how you sit back and let me have my way with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim chokes out a ragged sob, clutching at the back of Martin’s head. Martin presses his tongue against Tim’s pulse, nosing behind his ear as Tim thrusts his hips up to push into the vibrations. It’s a good position, comfortable and easy for Martin to stimulate Tim’s cock and his chest and hear every little sound pour out of his mouth. He pinches Tim’s nipple, smiling at the way that Tim’s breath catches in his throat, then rubs it with a firm touch, letting his fingernail brush over it through the fabric. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s getting close, Martin can tell; his thighs are tense and every breath sounds like a struggle, and he keeps trying to speak, because he can’t stop himself as long as there’s nothing in his mouth. It’s only when Tim’s “God, fuck, that’s good, so good babe, shit, Martin,” devolves entirely into “Please, please, please please please,” that Martin decides he’s had enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come for me,” he whispers right in Tim’s ear. “Go on, be a good boy and come for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He latches his lips on Tim’s neck again, tugs harshly on his nipple, and Tim falls apart instantly. He comes in long, intense waves, grasping at whatever part of Martin he can find, a series of frankly pornographic moans escaping him. Martin pulls the toy away before it can become too much, lets his hands settle on Tim’s waist and continues pressing easy, languid kisses into his neck and jaw while Tim regains his breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Martin,” Tim says after a time, sounding drained but utterly content. “Can I tell you something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin pulls away to look him in the eyes. “Yeah, of course,” he says gently. “Is it – important? Do you want to get cleaned up first, maybe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim shakes his head slowly. “No, I need – if I don’t say it now, I don’t know if I ever will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Furrowing his brow, Martin frowns slightly, more from curiosity than anything else, and gives Tim an expectant nod. Tim rubs his eyes, smudging a bit of mascara underneath, and heaves a deep sigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You just – you made me promise to tell you, so I have to tell you,” he says, all in a rush, like he’s forcing the words out against his will. “I think I’m really – like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>really in love with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“…Oh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Oh.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>